In Search of the Origins of Dance
I first began studying Middle Eastern dance in the mid-1970's, I,
like my fellow students, was curious about where this dance came
from. Our families and
friends asked us about it, and since dance was so much a part of our
lives, we too wanted to know. But
we heard vastly different stories and had no idea what to believe. Some told us that belly dancing began in the harems of the
sultans, when hundreds of wives had to compete for their husband's
attention. We were even
told that the sultan might be too monstrously fat to participate in
the "reproductive act," so the dancer's skill had the
direct purpose of showing him that she could satisfy his desires.
At the opposite end of the spectrum, we heard that belly
dancing originated as a primitive birth ritual, or as instruction to
women on how to give birth. Stories
proliferated. We heard
that women danced at the slave markets for the highest bidder, or
that dancers performed at weddings to demonstrate sexual technique,
or that this was the dance of the moon goddess Isis, dating back to
the time of the pharaohs.
were we to believe? In the 1970's, there was so little information available that
we had to take what we could get.
This might be blurbs from record jackets written by studio
hacks with no knowledge of anything Middle Eastern, or the wishful
imaginings of spiritually inclined dancers, or real research and
observations watered down by transmission until the original meaning
was all but lost. I
look back now and shake my head at how naive we were -- until I hear
these same stories circulating today.
It seems that across the world, dancers and their audiences
are still looking for a way to explain the beginnings of their dance
-- and in some cases, looking in all the wrong places.
are the origins of this moving and powerful dance, so rich with
layers of meaning? Why
are we drawn so naturally to search for these origins, and how can
we best answer our own questions?
we are moved by something that is beautiful, or terrible, or vitally
important to our souls, it is human nature to try to understand it.
One of the ways we look for this meaning is to try to find or
imagine its origins. We
sense that, if we can find its ultimate beginning, perhaps we will
also find its deepest truth -- a truth that will open up the
wellspring of our own creative power. Our search for origins has inspired some of our most
brilliant insights. It
inspires us to trace our genealogies, explore the intricacies of
cell biology or evolution, and seek the ultimate source of all
matter in the depths of space-time.
It inspires our philosophy and religion, from the Navajo
stories of Changing Woman to the seven days of Yahweh's creation to
the presocratic philosophers' exploration of the elements of earth,
air, water and fire. The
search for the origins of what we hold to be precious and
magnificent is fundamental to our way of understanding the world.
So it is natural that those of us who treasure Middle Eastern
dance and want to understand it more fully should seek out its
much as we long for an ancient beginning-place, it is difficult for
us to uncover the true past. Time
is the most elusive element, passing by and leaving emptiness in it
wake. History is almost
entirely intangible. Our
ancestors have left us some material remains, visual images, poems
and stories -- relics of surpassing beauty which inspire our own
lives and creations. But the vast majority of what was valuable and meaningful
about the past has completely gone.
We will never know the names, daily pastimes, feelings,
hopes, and dreams of the people who went before us, never hear their
songs or see their dances. If
we could see them as they were -- humans like ourselves, living
lives both hauntingly the same and hauntingly different -- perhaps
we could find the origins we seek.
we can't. And in our
ancestors' absence, we fall into habits of thinking that mar our
search for the origins of this ancient dance. One is that we tend to see the past as more simple than the
present, and to imagine that today's complexity is a development
from something more primitive and unified.
Another is that we tend to use the past as a justification
for present views or practices -- we want to see our own ideas and
practices as correct and natural, so we are easily distracted from
the wide, confusing perspective of real history and slip into
historical myths. Only
when we have come to terms with these tendencies in our thinking
will we be able to explore the history of this dance, and form an
accurate, respectful relationship with the women and men of the past
whose dance was the precursor of our own.
ancient Egypt, there were many different stories of how the world
began. The priests of
Atum told how Atum arose from the primal waters and ejaculated the
seed of all present reality. The
priests of Ptah held that Ptah spoke the generative words that
brought the cosmos into being.
One story emphasized the physical and fertile power of Atum,
the other, the power of language and intellect exemplified by Ptah.
These are two different views not just of creation, but also of the
relative importance of these forces -- fertility and intellect -- in
the workings of the current world.
Like these ancient creation myths, most simple stories of the
origins of Middle Eastern dance are essentially about what
the dance means now. Some
of our "origin myths" emphasize sexuality and the dance as
an instrument of seduction. Others
emphasize its feminist, spiritual and expressive potentials.
the '60's and '70's, when the dance was first making a popular
impact in the United States, Americans perceived its movements as
primarily sexy and seductive. Dancers,
of course, were aware that Middle Eastern dance encompasses a wide
range of emotions and projections beyond sexuality and seduction,
but the dance's popular impact, and possibly its first impact on the
women who began to study it, was in the realm of sensuality.
So some "origin myths" reflect this perception.
This desire to "give history" to the dance's
seductive nature gave rise to the stories of its origins as a dance
of the slave markets, as seduction in the harems, or as a proof of
advanced sexual technique. The
idea that, because the dance was performed by prostitutes, it was
originated by prostitutes, is another "origin myth" that
prioritizes the dance's sexuality in a patriarchal setting.
desire to emphasize the sacred or woman-centered potential of the
dance gives rise to other "origin myths."
To claim the dance away from a patriarchal setting, and to
emphasize the sense of freedom it engenders in women who embrace it,
very different stories of origins are told: that the dance began as
a birth ritual, or a dance by priestesses to the Goddess.
These stories reject the notion that women's physical
expression, especially when it is fertile or sensual, is performed
primarily in service of men. They
reject the male-centered, pornographic images of competing harem
girls, happily dancing sex slaves, and lascivious seductresses, and
create an image of the dance as a possession of sensual, fertile,
self-realized women. Sometimes
woman-centered "origin myths" embrace the patriarchal
myths of dancing prostitutes with a womanist twist: temple
prostitutes are seen as icons of power, and the dancing
prostitutes visited by Flaubert and Curtis are seen as
representatives of women's sensual independence.
Positive as these images are, they are no more solidly
grounded as the origin of dance than are the harem fantasies.
They are still myths.
"origin myths," whether they emphasize sensuality or
spirituality, seduction or self-actualization, have an element of
truth to them, as least as far as we know from the dance as
performed in recent history. The
dance is attested in many different circumstances.
For example, it
is done to accompany childbirth -- essentially, as a birth ritual --
as Morocco personally observed in 1967.
Many 19th century Western travelers observed dances by
prostitutes. We have
first-hand accounts that show us dancing in ordinary harems (though
nothing to support the "competing dancers" fantasies of
the '70's). The problem
with all of these stories is that they are not adequate explanations
for the origins of Middle
Eastern dance. They are
not history. They are
simply stories that, in the guise of history, interpret the present
in mythic images that feel right to us.
history, no simple story is ever right.
19th-century scholars began studying the different varieties of
civilization, they envisioned human history as a series of stages
from the most primitive to the most advanced.
They portrayed people of previous times -- Paleolithic
hunter-gatherers, Neolithic (or modern) agriculturists in their
small settled villages -- as living in the childhood of the species.
They saw Western industrial civilization -- that is to say, us
-- as humanity's maturity. They
spoke of tribal peoples as simple or naive, while thinking of
themselves as sophisticated and wise.
scholarly thinking has changed.
Anthropologists have recognized that technological progress
does not make people more intelligent or more complex.
By exploring the wisdom of native peoples, they have realized
that the thought of non-industrial societies is as complex as our
own. The different
voices of tribal peoples, from Native American elders to Indonesian
villagers, has now impressed us with a different sort of wisdom. We have come to recognize that maybe our own ways are not so
superior after all.
we still have a tendency to think of the past as simple.
It is still our instinct to seek simple origins -- such as a
one-sentence explanation of the origin of our dance -- and we
encounter this form of thinking constantly, from our students, our
public, our peers, and ourselves.
So we try to explain the origins of the dance in simple,
linear ways -- whether we point to the harems of the Ottoman kings
or the rituals of the Great Goddess.
simple origin stories can't possibly work.
What such explanations would have you believe is that for
centuries, for millennia, throughout the Middle East, North Africa,
Southern Europe, and India, no one did this dance or anything like
it, until somehow, for some reason, a harem girl, priestess or
midwife got the idea of dancing in aid of her goal (whether pleasing
the sultan, worshipping the goddess or getting the baby born).
After that, other harem girls, priestesses or midwives
followed suit. And
despite the fact that there are few harem girls, priestesses and
dancing midwives around today, they somehow transferred their
perceptions and their artistry to us.
that way it sounds absurd. And
it is absurd. If we are looking for the origins of this dance, we have to
look for a story that is more complex than a sultan's dancing girl
or a single kind of ritual. We
have to look at a whole, complicated, interchanging, developing
world of many different kinds of dance, and we have to recognize
that in some ways what we do today is unique and unlike what was
done in the past.
is important to realize that the movements of this dance are done
all over the Middle East, North Africa, Southern Europe and India,
and that this has apparently been the case for a very long time.
"Belly dance" -- an expressive dance which
emphasizes complex movements of the torso -- is, quite simply, a
folk dance of this area. It
is a way of moving, and a way of understanding what dance is, that
ranges far and wide. People
of both sexes do it; it appears at many different kinds of functions
in many different forms. The
basic techniques of our dance, and the spirit of self-expression in
which it is done, are spread out so broadly throughout the area and
throughout history that pinpointing any specific origin for it is an
the fact that we are talking about a non-Western culture leads
Westerners to simplify the issues.
If we considered an equally broad question, such as
"what is the origin of country music," we would realize
that we were discussing a wide ranging phenomenon which could not be
pinned down. Like many
aspects of human culture, such as cooking and hunting, song and
fire, "origin" is not really a valid concept for this
the other hand, once we acknowledge that the movements of Middle
Eastern dance exist in many related dance traditions throughout the
Middle East and Mediterranean rim, we may focus on more complex but
better defined questions, for which answers may be possible.
One such question might be, what is the origin of raqs
sharki (solo performance of Middle Eastern dance by a
professional female dancer at celebratory functions) as we know it
today? This may in fact
be what people mean when they ask, "How did belly dance
begin?" And it is
a more answerable question. Raqs
sharki, like rock or jazz music, is a more definable phenomenon
that a widespread folk art such as Middle Eastern dance or country
specific elements of modern Middle Eastern dance, such as veils,
sword dances, women's cane dancing, and so on, have more
even these more sophisticated questions of origins cannot be
answered simply. Any
simple story is more likely myth than truth.
The search for origins goes wide, and asks as many questions
as it answers. It seeks
not a simple explanation but an elucidation of complex
begin to explain the phenomenon of raqs sharki, one would need to investigate, among other things, the
traditional role of women as professional performers; the roles of
distinct ethnic groups such as the ghawazee; the social forces
bearing on ordinary women in their dance expression in private and
in public; the economic and artistic factors leading to key
phenomena such as the formation of Badia Masabni's club; the
developments in music; the effects of recordings, radio, and film;
influences from the West; the impact of influential artists; the
roles of women in folk performance traditions.
The better we understand these phenomena, the better we will
understand the development of raqs
sharki in the Middle East, and the farther we will come from
such simple explanations of origins as "in the harems" or
"as a sacred dance."
some of the most profound connections of dance and history are the
ones we cannot make with any certainty.
These are the connections of dance and ritual in the ancient
past. Because dance,
until recently, was impossible to record, and because most of the
world's people have never recorded their history or practices at
all, we have no way of knowing what role dance played in prehistoric
worship. We do know,
from ancient records, that throughout the Middle East, North Africa
and the Mediterranean, dance very often was an element of worship,
and that at times ritual dances were performed by women, in groups
and perhaps, less commonly, as individuals.
But specific descriptions are sketchy or nonexistent, and
artistic representations do not tell us exactly what the dancers
did. Nor can we know
what they felt while doing it, or what complex beliefs their dance
supported. They would
almost certainly be different from what we, from our perspective in
modern Western culture, could imagine.
are in even chancier territory when we go back into prehistory, into
the time before writing and realistic representations of the human
body. We know that
dance exists among hunter-gatherers and agriculturists today in many
different forms and that it often has a sacred function, or occurs
at functions which are both sacred and communal. But comparisons
with modern practices can only give us a range of possibilities for
the past, not concrete information.
We cannot say for certain that anything we would recognize as
belly dance was done by ancient priestesses in a sacred context.
There is a chance that it was, though most likely, not as we
imagine it from the modern world.
In any case, regardless of knowledge or proof, ancient sacred
dance remains a powerful and moving idea in our own creations of
meaning through dance.
people ask us "How did this dance begin?" they expect an
answer that is rooted in material fact -- the provable world we
share. And this is the
sort of answer we ought to give them.
We can explain that this is the folk dance of the Middle
East, and perhaps discuss some of the factors that led to its
popularity as a performance art both there and in the West.
Sticking to fact --however little there is of it -- is
respectful to others, as it allows them to form their own
interpretations of the dance without being influenced by
"origin myths" that might not reflect their own feelings
or beliefs. But even
more important, this level of caution and truthfulness is respectful
of the people of the past, whose lives we do not really know and
should not describe as if we did.
the same time, as dancers and artists -- and simply as human beings
-- we are entitled to feel ancient connections.
We are entitled to tell our own archetypal stories through
dance. For this, the
imagination must be free to roam -- to explore the images of birth
dance, harem slave, sacred ritual, sacred prostitute.
These images are as much fragments of ourselves as
reflections of real people and events from the past.
Our mythic past gives us a way of understanding ourselves by
plotting our own lives and feelings into the sweep of time and
imagination. In our dance -- if not in our scholarship -- we may invoke
any truth, any image, and experience we want to represent, from
ancient priestess to village maiden, from prostitute to queen.
I mention patriarchy here because "origin myths" which emphasize seduction tend toward a patriarchal model: a women who is in some way disempowered (prostitute, slave, or sex-deprived odalisque) must use her sexuality to win favors from a powerful man. There are, of course, models of seduction which do not emphasize female disempowerment -- but not in this brand of "origin myth."
Morocco, "Giving to the Light: Dancing the Baby into the World." Habibi 15.1 (Winter 1996) 12-13, 32-3.
For example, I recently heard this story about the origins of women's sword dancing: that during the French occupation of Egypt, the rebellious natives were not allowed to carry weapons. So the women, dancing to entertain the soldiers, would balance the soldiers' weapons on their heads -- then run off with them into the night to supply their men. A charming image, but clearly and "origin myth," since none of it can be correlated with any historical account or with what we know of the culture at that time. Any investigation into the phenomenon of women's sword dancing would have to consider not only visual images from art and stories from contemporary travelers' tales, but also Middle Eastern men's weapon dances, women's cane dances, Middle Eastern attitudes toward women, weaponry and dance, and the transmission of dance within the United States, as well as many other factors.
I am grateful to Morocco, both for her generosity in sharing her eyewitness encounters with dance throughout the Middle East, and for her interpretations of the pervasiveness of the dance as a social and cultural phenomenon; to Pat Taylor, for her insightful and sophisticated perspective on the complexity of tracing artistic and cultural developments in history; and to Ron Iverson, for his insights on the power of the concept of origins in philosophical thought.
Andrea Deagon received her Ph.D. in Classical Studies from Duke Unviersity in 1984. Since then she has taught at Victoria University of Wellington (New Zealand) and at her undergraduate alma mater, Guilford College (Greensboro, NC) before coming to UNC-Wilmington, where she coordinates the Classical Studies Program and teaches in the Women's Studies Program. She has studied oriental dance since age 17, and has had a wide range of performing experiences in the US and (opportunistically) overseas. She periodically teaches local classes and regional seminars. One of her goals over the past ten years has been the integration of her academic research and writing, with her goals and perceptions as a dancer. These articles are a part of that process.
Copyright restrictions: This article is copyrighted material. It is made available on the Internet for anyone who wants to read it. If you want to copy it, please abide by the following conditions:
Thank you for complying with these rules. I make them because I want to make sure my articles keep the form I worked so hard to finalize, and because I want people who are doing their own reading and research in the field to know the individual voices behind the words. Best wishes and joy in dance.